


Alma Matters

by astrospecial



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Light Sadism, M/M, Masturbation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Possibly Unrequited Love, Sexual Fantasy, slight autoerotic asphyxiation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-09
Updated: 2019-09-09
Packaged: 2020-10-13 02:13:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20574752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astrospecial/pseuds/astrospecial
Summary: Byleth's process of recruiting students has an unintended effect on Felix: he gets a crush.(AKA, Felix jerks off and feels bad about it.)





	Alma Matters

Felix’s idiotic, useless crush had started when Byleth first noticed him. 

For a couple of months, it was like Felix didn’t exist. Fine, whatever. People already talked to him too much as it was, and Felix didn’t expect a different house’s professor to give him much time at all. Besides, he had more important things to worry about than whether Professor Byleth was inviting him out to tea. In those early days, much of their interaction came from when Byleth would nod to him from afar in the training grounds. 

But then, one completely ordinary day, Byleth waltzed into the training grounds, face unusually smiley, and handed Felix the nicest bouquet he ever received. Felix didn’t care for flowers that much, but as he held the violets awkwardly in his hands, he thought he could see the appeal. 

“What are these?” he asked dumbly like he didn’t have two working eyes. He fought to control the new heat rising to his cheeks. Both Hilda and the boar were in the yard, because of all the people who could have seen Felix make a fool of himself, it couldn’t have been someone that wouldn’t give a shit. Of course, it had to be the resident gossip— by the end of the day, the whole monastery was going to know about that one time Felix forgot what flowers were.

“Flowers,” Byleth said and didn’t elaborate. He just stared. That was the thing about Byleth: he was always watching. Sometimes, when he would sit in on Manuela’s lectures, Felix could feel his eyes like a brand. “I chose the seeds myself.”

“Oh.” Felix didn’t know what to say to that. When was the last time someone had done something so simply kind for him? “Thanks.”

Byleth nodded, then Felix watched him go. His heart stuttered in his chest. Stupid. He didn’t have time for flowers.

Still. He put them in a safe corner, away from the commotion of the training yard. Hilda had smiled at him before she skipped away, off to go tell the whole monastery about Idiot Felix. Felix trained until his emotions faded to exhaustion.

Then it was tea. 

Byleth was funny, all deadpan sarcasm and sagely nods at stupid things. Though he didn’t say much, what he told of his merc days was more interesting than any lecture. Jeralt and the rest of their merry band were quite the characters. Yet even someone like Felix could sense it wasn’t Byleth’s favorite topic. So they spent numerous teatimes talking about training and weaponry, always ending with Byleth’s unwavering gaze, like he was seeing right through the teacup held to Felix’s lips. He always left those meetings awkward, like he was a half-second behind everyone else, a feeling only remedied by their next teatime. Felix had mentioned it to Byleth, and he understood his rambling although Felix had no idea what he had said when he had finished.

As soon as they started training together, there was no hope for Felix.

It seemed that it was all a test from the Goddess to see how long he could last without going crazy. How Byleth’s arms flexed, how they shone with sweat, how his eyes furrowed in concentration when he parried a strike, the way he threw off his robes and sparred only in a dress shirt, the way he would take the bottom of it and wipe the sweat off his forehead...the list was embarrassingly long. Somehow he had ended up as one of Professor Byleth’s lovesick admirers, pining from afar like some damsel. Sometimes Felix would sit in the training room when he knew Byleth would be there and watch him drill Claude in the sword. It was strange that Byleth’s hands could be so soft when he passed Felix a cup of tea, yet flex in such dangerous ways when he gripped his practice sword or grappled Claude to the ground. 

It was only about the fifth time of him getting so thoroughly beaten that something dark and hot bubbled up and burst in his stomach.

At least he had an excuse: he hated to lose. He also hated seeming like a spoiled prat who couldn’t take defeat, which was how Byleth would see him from now on, surely. But how was Felix supposed to stand being around Byleth for another second? Felix had looked up at Byleth at the end of their match from the floor, his muscles aching, and Byleth’s cheeks were flushed and his eyes almost completely black and the smile on his face was dangerous and  _ sadistic. _

It would be far more embarrassing to be known as the fool who fainted after looking at Professor Byleth, he reasoned as he ran down the stairs and to his dorm. Byleth’s worried voice echoed behind him, but if he turned around, stopped running for a moment, he would die.

He slammed his door shut and locked it, breathing heavy. What had come over him? He wasn’t immune to the way others looked while training; it was impossible to miss how Sylvain ran a hand through his sweat-slicked hair or how Hilda’s uniform rode up when she stretched. But why was Byleth different? Why did he affect him so?

Felix knew the answer, and it sickened him as he tore off his pants. Made him want to throw up as he fell back onto the bed and pulled out his dick.

Byleth was  _ kind  _ to him, and not that superficial niceness he was used to. He talked, and trained, and ate lunch with him, all while Felix treated him like shit. And he asked nothing in return other than Felix’s company.

This was how Felix repaid him: by slicking up his hand and hurriedly jerking off. For some reason, he felt like he was going to be caught, that one of his peers or Byleth himself was going to open the door and know exactly who he was thinking about. Yet it did nothing to temper his arousal.

Not when the memory of Byleth calling his name bounced through his mind. It was all so easy to extrapolate until it became a full-length play. That small, sadistic smile became a grin; the practice sword Byleth’s hands tightened around became Felix’s neck. The reasonable part of him was screaming at him as he slipped his other hand around his throat, let it rest there until he gave it a gentle squeeze. He gasped, the rush of air dizzying, and the sight of his pale hand on his throat made him wish he had gloves. The fantasies flitted in and out of his mind: now Byleth was looking at him with the most intense gaze, the mess of their sex spread across his belly, and his red and swollen lips matched his hole. 

He bit his lip to stifle a moan— briefly remembered where he was, that Byleth wasn’t with him— and then Byleth was on his knees, his moans reverberating around his cock. Felix’s hand fisted itself in Byleth’s hair. Yes, Byleth would like it rough both ways. He wanted everything Felix could give to him: his mouth, his ass, his cock, his— Byleth looked so pretty with his lips stretched around him, head bobbing back and forth, his dick untouched and weeping that real-life Felix bit down on his knuckles, his release coating his hand.

He wiped his hand on the sheets and tucked himself back into his underwear. He breathed heavily, sleep looming over him like a shadow when he lowered his hand from his throat and the reality of his deed came back to him.

How could he? How could he  _ use  _ Professor Byleth like that? And how was he going to look Byleth in the eye tomorrow without seeing him spread out before him, aching and squirming and wanting? He couldn’t avoid it without making a total ass out of himself, but he couldn’t have it both ways. He couldn’t enjoy Byleth’s company, his  _ kindness _ , and betray him by night. And Felix had already made his choice.

He pulled up the blankets and curled up under them. There had to be a way to avoid him, and he would just have to figure it out. Maybe he could forget about what he did in the process. Maybe if he fell asleep he wouldn’t vomit, and maybe the Goddess would have pity on him and make his dreams of anything else but Byleth.

A knock on the door drew him out of his self-loathing reverie. Then, quietly, a concerned voice said his name. All the filthy things he imagined it saying, all the filthy sounds, flooded back to Felix, and he pressed his fist hard into his forehead.

“Felix? Are you okay?”

He didn’t say anything.

“I don’t want to have to commit a breaking and entering...you left so abruptly that I wasn’t sure what to think. Usually, you’d be ready to go all night. If something’s bothering you, or if it’s something I did, tell me. And if you’re asleep, and I woke you, then…” Byleth hesitated here, and the mind’s eye that conjured up images of Byleth with white-strewn across his tongue gave him Byleth’s hand hovering over the doorknob, his lips pursed with worry. “Goodnight, Felix.”

Felix was the lowest scum in Fódlan. How dare his heart pound faster at Byleth’s low timbre? How dare his cheeks flush? How dare he, after all the things he thought, desperately want to say ‘goodnight, Byleth?’

Sleep didn’t come for Felix that night.

**Author's Note:**

> you know...post-timeskip they definitely FUCK  
\--  
*clears throat*  
Thank you so much for reading! This was absolutely based on my own experience in the Golden Deer house, desperately trying to recruit Felix before the time-skip. Title is from the song "Alma Matters" by Morrissey. It rocks.  
\--  
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